


Notes of Lavender and Lemongrass

by thewriterpoe



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:52:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4789622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterpoe/pseuds/thewriterpoe





	Notes of Lavender and Lemongrass

      Taemin bounces on his heels as he waits for the elevator to trudge its way up to the twelfth floor. For a state-of-the-art hospital, you'd think that the elevators would be _state-of-the-art_ but they're not. They lumber slowly like all the other elevators in the world, gnawing on nerves with their unwelcome lessons on patience. But it doesn't matter anyway. This is the last time he will be enclosed in the shiny box.

      Taemin hates hospitals, thinks they are the place people go to die, and no amount of disinfectant can make him believe otherwise. The stench of loss always lingers behind notes of lavender and lemongrass. It's what gives hospitals their awful smell. Everyone he knows who's entered a hospital hasn't come out. Except Jongin. He doesn't suppress the smile creeping on his lips as he thinks about wheeling Jongin out of this dreadful place.

      The elevator announces his arrival with an obnoxious ding. In his excitement, Taemin almost runs over the middle-aged woman waiting to get in. She looks like he did those first days - hollow and frayed. Those were dark days. Everything hung on a delicate thread, a slim line that peaked and dipped on a small electronic display.

      The nurse at the nurses’ station smiles at him as he waltzes by. All the nurses on the floor know him. They call him ‘the statue’ because for two days straight he sat, unmoving by Jongin's side. Taemin doesn't recognize this one so he waves his hand so she can see his visitor's band. He gets to room 122 and ceremoniously throws the door open. It bounces against the wall guard and catches itself to close slowly.

      The bed is empty. Taemin blinks as he takes in the room: the missing medical equipment, the sterile white walls, the contrasting blue mattress, the scent of lavender and lemongrass with a hint of something else underneath. It had been the same when his grandmother died.

      "Taemin-ah?!"

      Taemin turns at his name. He closes his eyes in relief and smiles back at the grinning boy in a wheel chair.

*

      Taemin can still smell on the hospital on the clothes he'd worn earlier as he stuffs them into a trash bag. He glances over to Jongin who’s on the couch pinching the skin around his belly with a disgruntled frown and smiles. _Jongin's home_ , he thinks running his hand through his freshly washed hair. He ignores the way his dick twitches at the word 'home', courtesy of their frequent 'I Love Lucy' roleplay, and walks over to Jongin to place a small kiss on his lips. Jongin tries to tug Taemin down on to his lap to deepen the kiss but Taemin stands steadfast over him, smiling when Jongin whines into his mouth.

      "Are you tired?" Taemin asks pulling away. "Should we go to bed?"

      It's three in the afternoon and so no, Jongin is not tired. But he does want to go to bed.

      Taemin helps him off the couch and into their bed. He is working so tenderly even though it was just knee surgery, but Taemin still feels like the injury is his fault. He crawls into bed with Jongin, smirking at the way Jongin is frowning at his sweat pants. Usually, he lays his head on Jongin's chest but this time, he pulls Jongin to lie on him.

      "I’ve missed this," Jongin mumbles into Taemin's chest.

      Taemin squeezes him and kisses the top of his head. He feels like he can finally breathe; the weight of dread in his chest now replaced by the weight of Jongin’s head. They stay like this for while and Taemin thinks that Jongin’s fallen asleep till he feels a slight pressure between his legs.

      “Jongin,” he groans, pulling the other’s hand away from his erection. “The doctor said you have to rest.”

      “I am resting,” Jongin says, wresting his hand from Taemin’s grip.

      Taemin moans loudly when Jongin palms his dick harder. “Jongin, stop,” but he’s not fooling anyone with the way he’s keening into the touch.

      Jongin stops and Taemin kind of hates him because now he’s drawing delicate circles into the skin right above his dick.

      “You’re such an ass,” Taemin hisses when Jongin chuckles at his efforts to not get excited.

      “Get on top of me,” Jongin instructs, rolling off of Taemin’s chest onto his back.

      Taemin’s stomach clenches at the tone of Jongin’s voice. He has an authority kink that they’d only started exploring before Jongin’s injury.

      “You’re going to have to do all the work,” Jongin adds, not that Taemin has a problem with that.

      They are a frenzy of hands and hair as they consume every bit of each other’s skin. Taemin slows their pace down because at this rate they’ll come undone before anything good actually happens.

      Taemin trembles as he sinks down Jongin’s cock. It’s been so long since he’s been filled like this and he whimpers at the feeling. He hears Jongin smile and looks at him through the mess of blond hair falling in his eyes. Jongin’s left hand goes up to clutch Taemin’s waist while his right hand circles around Taemin’s throbbing cock.

      “No,” Taemin whines, “I don’t think I’m going to last long.” He moves Jongin’s fingers to the base of his cock to form a makeshift cock ring. Then he rides Jongin slowly watching for any hint of pain or discomfort.

      “T-taemin.” Jongin stutters, his grip on Taemin’s waist tightening.

      Taemin feels the jet stream of warmth pool inside him, and he takes Jongin’s right hand in his, tugs his dick twice, and comes on his stomach. He clenches around Jongin’s length milking the drops of cum before it softens and flags.

      Jongin falls asleep on Taemin’s chest soon after, lulled by the familiar beat of Taemin’s heart. Taemin’s tired too and stops resisting the draw of his heavy eyelids over his eyes. He gathers the locks of Jongin’s hair that have fallen on his face and tucks them behind the other’s ear. It still has notes of lavender and lemongrass in it. But there’s something else behind it. Something that’s distinctly Jongin.


End file.
